


The Truth About Santa

by agentx13



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Babysitting, Carter Cousins, Christmas, Gen, plot to trap Santa, sharon carter month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27822574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentx13/pseuds/agentx13
Summary: On Christmas Eve in 1990, Tony and his new friend Rhodey babysit Sharon Carter. She enlists their help to build a trap for Santa Claus, but she gets much, much more than she bargained for.
Relationships: Sharon Carter & Morgan Stark, Sharon Carter & Pepper Potts, Sharon Carter & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts (implied)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33
Collections: Sharon Carter Month





	The Truth About Santa

**Author's Note:**

> It's that time of year again! No, not Christmas. Although yes. Christmas. But also: SHARON CARTER MONTH! And I've got 31 fics written. Yes, Sharon is in each and every one (because Sharon Carter Month. Of _course_ she's in each and every one), but Tony is in several of them, too.
> 
> What I'm trying to say is, it's the holiday season. And I've got plenty of presents to offer. I hope they bring you joy! (Although to be fair some might make you cry a little, too. Sorry? Not sorry.) HAPPY SHARON CARTER MONTH!

_Christmas Eve, 1990_  
“If this is punishment for you making a scene at your dad’s Christmas party, how come _I’m_ here?” Rhodey demanded. When he’d decided to tag along with Tony because he felt bad for the guy, he hadn’t realized it would include babysitting.

“You’re my back up,” Tony said, pressing the doorbell. He turned and waved to his dad’s car. Jarvis, sitting cool and composed behind the wheel, gave him a little wave. His dad didn’t look up, but Tony knew the car wouldn’t leave until he’d gone inside. Christmas was less than eight hours away; Howard’s fatherly affection was in 1945.

“Who are these people?” Rhodey asked quietly, listening for footsteps on the other side.

“My dad works with their mom or aunt or something.” He stomped his feet against the wintry chill. “I’ve babysat for the kid before. She’s all right. For a kid.”

The door wrenched open. “You’re here,” the woman said, clearly relieved. She was dressed to the nines in a sheathe dress and high heels, her hair a blonde version of Julia Roberts’ hairstyle in Pretty Woman. Her perfume she wore nearly knocked Tony flat on his ass.

“I’m here,” he confirmed, thinking that was obvious.

“Bedtime’s at eight. Pizza money’s on the counter.” She turned and yelled for her husband, who, to prove he’d gotten ready faster than she had, barreled past her to the driveway. He didn’t spare Tony or Rhodey a glance, but he gave Howard a cheery wave. “Right,” she continued, tugging on her winter coat. “We’ll be back late. Don’t burn the house down.” There was an edge to her voice that suggested she believed he might actually do it.

Tony fought the urge to set fire to something just to spite her. “Sure thing, Mrs. C.”

She looked at him in poorly-disguised distaste and hurriedly followed her husband to the car.

Tony sighed and shook his head before peering into the house.As he’d expected, the kid was waiting for him at the end of the hall. “Heya, sprout.”

She put her finger to her lips and ran forward, tugging him and Rhodey inside, barely sparing Rhodey a curious glance before shoving the door closed. She then ignored them as she ran to the window in the living room and pressed her face to the glass, watching and waiting.

Once the cars’ lights had faded from view, she stood straight and looked up at Tony, pointing at Rhodey. “Is he any good at catching Santa?”

Rhodey eyed her carefully. “I am, actually. Good enough to know we can’t catch Santa on an empty stomach. Your mom mentioned ordering pizza? Maybe we can watch some movies or cartoons while we plot to take the big guy down.”

She eyed him back, the shrewdest look Rhodey had ever gotten from someone so young. She couldn’t be more than six. “I guess he can stay,” she said at last. She gave Rhodey a nod. “I’m Sharon.”

“Rhodey.”

“He’s a friend,” Tony offered.

That seemed to satisfy her in regards to Rhodey’s capabilities and trustworthiness. She led them down the hall to the family room, where she dug through her coloring books and 30-piece puzzles to find notebook papers that were crinkled and folded in nonsensical ways. She held the papers up for Tony’s inspection. “The plan,” she said, unable to hide her pride.

He took the papers and studied them with all the solemnity he could muster. He nodded a couple times and showed them to Rhodey, saying things like, “That’s clever,” and “I think she’s really onto something here.” All the while, she beamed more and more, and he didn’t have the heart to ask what any of the scribbles meant. They were pink, green, blue, yellow, overlapping, and chaotic. He’d once complimented her drawing of a puppy and had sent her into tears because she’d drawn - _clearly_ (to her) - her teddy bear. Sharon might be precocious, but she couldn’t draw to save her life.

He felt better about his assessment of her skill when Rhodey made similar confused but flattering sounds.

Tony decided that stalling was the wisest course of action and set the papers respectfully on the table, spread out as if intending to continue his study. “Rhodey’s right. We should discuss this over pizza.”

Sharon nodded, pleased that her plan was going so well and not suspecting anything to the contrary. “I’ll put in Miracle on 34th Street!” she yelled. She was already running for the television.

Tony and Rhodey looked at each other. They hadn’t known each other a long time, but they’d known each other long enough, worked together enough, and gotten to know each other well enough that neither of them had to say what they were both thinking: Their best hope to surviving the evening was distracting her.

“Do her parents pay well?” Rhodey asked hopefully.

“They’re rich, and I’m a family friend. They don’t pay at all.”

Rhodey sighed. “I’ll go order pizza.”

Distracting her wasn’t actually that hard. She was only six, after all. Give her some pizza and something shiny or imply she couldn’t do something, and she focused on little else until she got bored.

“You should probably start getting ready for bed,” Rhodey suggested at half past seven.

Both Tony and Sharon stared at him, wounded by his betrayal.

“You didn’t say he was a square.” Sharon meant for it to come out as a whisper; it didn’t.

Rhodey’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Did she-”

Tony shrugged. “She’s got a point, Rhodey. I can’t send her to bed. It’s what the Man wants.”

“The Man,” Sharon said in a serious tone, “is the root of all society’s ills.”

Tony offered her a high five; she took it.

Rhodey leaned forward. “Did he teach you that?”

Sharon nodded happily and fished a cold slice of pizza from the box. “So long as I don’t snitch, he teaches me loads of stuff. And I’m no snitch.”

Tony still had enough decency left that he looked _almost_ ashamed when Rhodey stared at him.

“Do you even know what a snitch is?” Rhodey demanded.

“A tattletale.” Sharon chewed a small bite of pizza. “Bet you’re one.”

Tony’s cough didn’t come in time to cover his laugh.

Rhodey pointed at Sharon. He couldn’t give up after he’d been told off by a six-year-old. This Christmas Eve _sucked._ “What will your parents say if they find out you didn’t go to bed on time?”

She pointed right back. “See? Snitch.”

“Snitch,” Tony agreed, in a tone that made Rhodey frown.

It was evidently some sort of cue for Sharon. With Tony urging her on, they chanted “Snitch, snitch” at him until Rhodey finally gave up and fell back into a chair.

“Parents suck,” Tony said, tearing a pizza crust apart with his fingers.

Sharon nodded soberly.

“Wait, wait. Sharon.” Rhodey straightened. “Do you believe that?” He glanced at Tony, trying to make him realize the effect he might have on a young, impressionable kid. “Or do you just want to impress Tony?”

She made a face, as if impressing Tony were the farther thing from her mind. “They always get me dolls and make me wear dresses. I wanna be a spy. I need guns and ninja stars!”

On second thought, maybe Rhodey understand children as much as he thought he did.

Tony, though, seemed amused by her answer. “I can make you guns and ninja stars,” he offered. And Sharon, like the desperate six-year-old she was, gave him a smile of open gratitude and admiration.

They each, Rhodey thought, seemed a bit desperate. And sitting there is a strangers’ living room on Christmas Eve, with Christmas decorations on every surface, Rhodey thought he could see why. He himself was away from his family by choice. He’d felt too bad to leave Tony alone at MIT, and Tony’s one plan over the holidays had been embarrassing his father at a party, which had led to his only other plan - this. But Tony and Sharon hadn’t chosen to leave their families, hadn’t talked over the reasons why with them like Rhodey had. Their families had left them, with little explanation, if any. Despite their age, they were bonded by the knowledge that their families were imperfect, even hurtful, but they knew the other would understand. Even if one was six, and the other only acted like he was six. In a way, they were like the Christmas decorations that surround them – useful when decorative and otherwise kept out of sight.

They needed a distraction before Tony began making ninja stars from the glossy magazines lying around.

“I’d have thought,” Rhodey said slowly, “that a kid as big as you would be able to do bigger puzzles than thirty pieces. Are they too tough for you or something?”

The ensuing thousand-piece puzzle Sharon dug out of a closet kept them occupied until she fell asleep, her cheek on the table and a puzzle piece slowly falling from her fingers.

Rhodey looked at Tony, and he met his eyes squarely. Neither of them said anything, unwilling to wake the kid, but they also couldn’t remain silent forever. They murmured to one another, gradually growing louder as Sharon continued to sleep.

By ten, they talked at their regular volume and felt safe changing the channel to Mystery Science Theatre 3000.

They both froze as Sharon shifted, then squirmed as if she thought she were in bed. She opened her eyes, blinked around, and gasped. “Santa!”

“He hasn’t been by,” Rhodey said. “He can’t come by until you go to bed.”

“But our trap!”

Tony frowned, and Rhodey knew that frown. It was slight, almost imperceptible, but it meant trouble. It always meant trouble. “Sharon. I’m going to tell you a grown-up secret.”

Oh, crap. “Tony…”

Tony leaned in toward Sharon. “There’s no Santa Claus.”

She stared at him in incomprehension. Her eyes narrowed.

Before she could argue, Tony held up his hands. “It’s true. There’s no jolly old man in red that rides a flying sleigh and hops down chimneys to deliver presents. That’s just a silly idea to introduce the _idea_ of Santa to little kids who can’t understand more complicated stuff.”

Her eyes were still narrowed, but she didn’t argue. Yet. She might have been as confused as Rhodey was, but she was also willing to hear him out.

“See,” Tony said, feeling himself on stronger ground, “you know how Santa only rewards kids who are good?”

Sharon nodded emphatically.

“That’s because, when you do good, part of you _is_ Santa. You do good things, and you get good things back.”

She stared at him. “You do good things and people say mean stuff about you all the time.”

“Not all the time,” Tony said defensively. He took a breath and tried to stay on topic. “Nope! I was good, and now Rhodey’s my friend.” Before Rhodey could thank Tony for the warm sentiment, Tony continued. “And he’s a great friend, when he isn’t being a total square and a snitch.”

Sharon seemed to consider that.

“The thing is, Santa is the part of us that wants good things for other people and tries to make them happen.” He pulled her Santa trap designs closer toward him. “I didn’t want to say anything because your plans here were so good. But you can’t trap the sensation of helping people, you know? Not without actually helping people. I know all your friends probably believe in Santa still, and maybe your parents do, too, but I think you’re smart enough to know the truth.”

That cinched it. She might not understand what he meant, but she would never admit it. She nodded. “Okay.”

Tony looked at the clock. “But that means Santa doesn’t deliver the gifts. Because that’s not what Santa’s about.”

Rhodey could practically see the wheels in Sharon’s head as they turned. “My _parents_ leave the gifts? The ones who told me to be good for Santa for _weeks?_ ” She sags. “I should’ve known. They use the same wrapping paper. They said Santa asked to borrow it.” She presses her forehead against the table as if humiliated she’d fallen for it.

“Yeah, they were mostly doing that for them,” Tony confirmed. “But they still might take away your presents if they think you’re being bad.”

Sharon instantly hopped to her feet. “I’ve gotta go to bed.”

Tony nodded. “I’ll check on you in a minute and then tuck you in, okay?”

“Okay.” She yawned as she walked away, and Rhodey wondered how long she was going to last.

When Tony was done tucking her in and the two were alone, Rhodey said, “That was nice of you. Surprisingly. I didn’t think you’d pull it off.”

“I didn’t, either,” Tony admitted. “But she was going to find out soon, and it sucks to lose what you believe in.” Before he betrayed anything more than that, though, he said, “Now grab a magazine. We’ve got some ninja stars to make.”

* * *

 _June, 1991_  
Rhodey didn’t always like everything about Tony. Not everything about Tony was likable. But when Tony got more irascible than usual, Rhodey tamped down on his temper, knowing that Father’s Day was coming up, and let Tony be as irascible as he liked. It would be easy to argue with Tony, to yell and fight. After all, that was what Howard did. But it wasn’t what was best for Tony, and Tony didn’t deserve being argued with, or yelled at, or fought with just because that was what he expected.

On Father’s Day, Tony didn’t leave his dorm room. Rhodey, who had expected him to be hiding in the lab, finally grabbed some food for them both and knocked on the door as long as it took for Tony to open it. “We were supposed to meet for dinner,” Rhodey said, because that was exactly the sort of thing Tony would forget about when he got distracted. He held up the to-go bags and handed one to Tony.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Rhodey pretended not to see that Tony’s eyes were a little glassier and redder than usual and strode over to the desk to set his own food down. “You weren’t in the lab today.”

“Didn’t feel like it.”

On the desk was a hand-written card. Letters at the top were large, pressed into the paper with a confidence and determination that belied the writer’s shaky handwriting. Underneath was a series of jumbles familiar in that they looked like other indecipherable jumbles he’d seen.

_HAPPY SONS DAY TONY_

Tony quickly snatched it away and tossed it in the direction of the trashcan. “It’s nothing.”

Rhodey picked it up. The inside read _I LUV YOU! S ~~H~~ A ~~rO~~ NTA_

“I think it’s sweet,” he said, handing it back to Tony. “No one’s ever sent _me_ a Happy Son’s Day card.”

Tony hesitated, then shoved the card into a drawer. “They wouldn’t, would they? You’d be too busy- what is it you were doing yesterday? When I tried to get you to help me build a robot?”

“Piloting a plane?”

“Yeah. Flying.” Tony scoffed. “Like a nerd.” He grabbed his food and started eating.

“How nerds do, man,” Rhodey said peaceably, starting in on his own food.

The thing Tony deserved, really, was someone to look after him. Because while not everything about Tony was likable, _most_ of Tony was likable. And he deserved someone who could see that. Someone who saw that Tony would give his life to save the people he cared about. Hell, maybe even complete strangers.

Tony deserved someone who could see that goodness.

* * *

 _December 20, 2025_  
“I’m so sorry to ask you to do this,” Pepper spilled as soon as she opened the door. She hastily moved away to let Sharon in from the cold.

Sharon smiled. “It’s no trouble. Honestly. Tony used to babysit me on Christmas Eve. Seems right I can return the favor.”

“I will _not_ need you to babysit on Christmas Eve,” Pepper said firmly.

“Still. I’m always happy to help.” Pepper was the sort who was always home on Christmas Eve. And Christmas. And New Year’s Eve. And New Year’s Day. Every family-important holiday, she was with her family. Losing Tony made family days all the more important. She was trying to make up for Tony’s absence. “For the record, if you ever need help, even on Christmas Eve, I’d do it. Morgan’s a good kid.”

Pepper looked at her with gratitude as she tried to close the clasp of her bracelet. With a gesture, Sharon leaned in to help. “You could come,” Pepper offered. “For Christmas. If you’re not spending the holidays with anyone else.”

“I’ve got plans, but thank you for the thought.” Sam had a large family and had roped Bucky and Sharon into attending his family festivities. It was sure to be awkward, but with Sam and Bucky there, at least she wouldn’t be awkward alone.

“Okay. Let me go tell Morgan goodbye, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Sharon nodded and followed, hanging back a respectful distance as Pepper talked with Morgan, hugged her, and gave her a kiss.

When they were alone, Sharon sat in a nearby chair. “Hey, sprocket.”

“Hi, Sharon.” Morgan was turning a piece of machinery over and over in her hands. She was young, but her fingers were deft and sure as she tightened a screw with a screwdriver.

“Building a trap for Santa? I tried to catch him when I was a kid, but I didn’t have much luck.”

Morgan gave her a look that was a little too patient for… what was she now? Six? Seven? Yeesh. “Santa’s not real. You don’t have to lie to me.”

Sharon grinned. “That’s not what your dad told me.”

Morgan paused. Her head was bowed over her project, but Sharon could sense that she had Morgan’s full attention.

“If you don’t believe me, ask Rhodey. He was there. See, Santa as most people think of him isn’t real. No jolly old man coming down chimneys. But Santa is about helping people…” She paused, remembering that night decades ago that was never too far from her memory. She looked at the lights on the Christmas tree, the pictures of Tony with his family on the mantle, and told his daughter the truth about Santa.


End file.
